As the void first began to fill, a Consciousness emerged. She began to perceive. Being first, She knew that the things before Her were never to be perceived by another, and, for those who came later to know of these events, She needed to record them. Into Her perception, Chaos came. His presence filled the void, and his consciousness blossomed. His awareness of Her, and because of his understanding of Her task, he worshipped Her. These acts of worship and understanding by Chaos spawned Order, and the world began to form. With the world came Magik, younger sibling to Order and Chaos.
As the fabric of existence was weaved She wrote in her mighty Tome. The patterns that She made mimicked the patterns She witnessed. And, as the nothingness became somethingness, She recorded the changes, the patterns, and the weave. Light and darkness became and She could see. Earth became and She could feel. Water became and She could smell. Air became and She could taste. The spark of life became, and She could hear.
Magik, separate from the duality of Chaos and Order, was the first to create. The Elves and fey, whom lived with rhythm and grace, were the first creation of Magik. Their role in the story was long, and vital, though easily seen. She revealed herself to them, and they knew of Her. Not knowing of gods, the elves treated Her as they did the world around them: a thing to be treasured for what it was and what it will become. They did not worship Her, knowing that to do so would serve nothing.
Magik then made the Dwarves, toiling and scraping, digging from the dark places the beauty lost in the weaving. Though deep, and reclusive, they too were easy chapters to write. To them She was age incarnate, the thing that came before. They cared not for what the void was; they cared only for what it had become. To dwarves, She was truth, but not need.
Chaos and Order, forever in balance and jealous of their sister’s creations, made the gods. From the gods came mortals.
She saw the humans. Flawed, violent, brilliant, and quick. As flashes in the pattern they seemed brighter than anything that came before. So brief, gone before they were properly seen. They were merely flashing specks in the story. To the humans, She revealed nothing of herself, for they were too impatient, too fleeting. She
With the mortals, created by them, came the lesser gods who rival the power of the elder gods, Chaos, Order and Magik. Because believed them incapable of knowing her. She was first, Her place is not threatened. She was part of the first pattern. The lesser gods came later, were further from the beginning, and therefore part of the formation, part of the story.
The lesser gods knew of her, and cared not for her task, for they felt it beneath them. The lesser gods knew of her, and cared not for her power, for they felt it greater than they.
Along with their gods, the mortals began to spread, and create. As still evolving parts of the pattern these mortals spread the weave, adding complexity, and creativity. Their lesser gods too brought new things into being, things of beauty and things of dread. All these new lines of pattern were so small, brief, and special. To truly record the meaning of each moment, She needed to record the perceptions of the creators.
She knew that the fey and the elder gods were building and dreaming their own, content to live in a pattern inside the pattern. It was to the humans, and the creations of their lesser gods that She turned.
To speak with us, She brought Her attention away from the weave. In the moments it took to find one that could conceive of Her, countless patterns passed by, unseen. Only rarely will She see need to lose moments from the pattern. To leave it unattended requires a moment of great import, rivaling The Naming, as this first meeting has come to be called.
Torma, in a blaze of power and light that would destroy most, came into the mind of the first witness, and told her of the weave, and the book. Torma told her that for the weave to be seen, and the book to be written, those inside the pattern would need to sense, to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, and to feel. For, the only way to write the story of the weave was to weave the story itself. She would tend the ledger, Her Tome, and through mortal senses the story of the weave would unfold.
“By holding me in your heart and mind, you grant access to the patterns you witness, adding your experience to the story, to The Tome. Serve Me in this way, and you too will one day read in my library, from the ledger of this world.”
It has been thousands of years since that day when She visited our realm. It is a truly rare and frightening moment when She does appear. And, all those years, long by mortal standards, are still but a single tome in Her mighty library. Throughout the years, the ranks of those who serve Her have swelled, and now include beings from many races. Humans are only one piece in the pattern of witnesses. Among us, among all of you, there are creatures, great and small that serve Her, that serve the weave. We watch and listen, hear and scent, feel and perceive the pattern that surrounds us. And, the Great Lady Torma writes…
Orders Page: The Witnesses of Torma
As the void first began to fill, a Consciousness emerged. She began to perceive. Being first, She knew that the things before Her were never to be perceived by another, and, for those who came later to know of these events, She needed to record them. Into Her perception, Chaos came. His presence filled the void, and his consciousness blossomed. His awareness of Her, and because of his understanding of Her task, he worshipped Her. These acts of worship and understanding by Chaos spawned Order, and the world began to form. With the world came Magik, younger sibling to Order and Chaos.
As the fabric of existence was weaved She wrote in her mighty Tome. The patterns that She made mimicked the patterns She witnessed. And, as the nothingness became somethingness, She recorded the changes, the patterns, and the weave. Light and darkness became and She could see. Earth became and She could feel. Water became and She could smell. Air became and She could taste. The spark of life became, and She could hear.
Magik, separate from the duality of Chaos and Order, was the first to create. The Elves and fey, whom lived with rhythm and grace, were the first creation of Magik. Their role in the story was long, and vital, though easily seen. She revealed herself to them, and they knew of Her. Not knowing of gods, the elves treated Her as they did the world around them: a thing to be treasured for what it was and what it will become. They did not worship Her, knowing that to do so would serve nothing.
Magik then made the Dwarves, toiling and scraping, digging from the dark places the beauty lost in the weaving. Though deep, and reclusive, they too were easy chapters to write. To them She was age incarnate, the thing that came before. They cared not for what the void was; they cared only for what it had become. To dwarves, She was truth, but not need.
Chaos and Order, forever in balance and jealous of their sister’s creations, made the gods. From the gods came mortals.
She saw the humans. Flawed, violent, brilliant, and quick. As flashes in the pattern they seemed brighter than anything that came before. So brief, gone before they were properly seen. They were merely flashing specks in the story. To the humans, She revealed nothing of herself, for they were too impatient, too fleeting. She
With the mortals, created by them, came the lesser gods who rival the power of the elder gods, Chaos, Order and Magik. Because believed them incapable of knowing her. She was first, Her place is not threatened. She was part of the first pattern. The lesser gods came later, were further from the beginning, and therefore part of the formation, part of the story.
The lesser gods knew of her, and cared not for her task, for they felt it beneath them. The lesser gods knew of her, and cared not for her power, for they felt it greater than they.
Along with their gods, the mortals began to spread, and create. As still evolving parts of the pattern these mortals spread the weave, adding complexity, and creativity. Their lesser gods too brought new things into being, things of beauty and things of dread. All these new lines of pattern were so small, brief, and special. To truly record the meaning of each moment, She needed to record the perceptions of the creators.
She knew that the fey and the elder gods were building and dreaming their own, content to live in a pattern inside the pattern. It was to the humans, and the creations of their lesser gods that She turned.
To speak with us, She brought Her attention away from the weave. In the moments it took to find one that could conceive of Her, countless patterns passed by, unseen. Only rarely will She see need to lose moments from the pattern. To leave it unattended requires a moment of great import, rivaling The Naming, as this first meeting has come to be called.
Torma, in a blaze of power and light that would destroy most, came into the mind of the first witness, and told her of the weave, and the book. Torma told her that for the weave to be seen, and the book to be written, those inside the pattern would need to sense, to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, and to feel. For, the only way to write the story of the weave was to weave the story itself. She would tend the ledger, Her Tome, and through mortal senses the story of the weave would unfold.
“By holding me in your heart and mind, you grant access to the patterns you witness, adding your experience to the story, to The Tome. Serve Me in this way, and you too will one day read in my library, from the ledger of this world.”
It has been thousands of years since that day when She visited our realm. It is a truly rare and frightening moment when She does appear. And, all those years, long by mortal standards, are still but a single tome in Her mighty library. Throughout the years, the ranks of those who serve Her have swelled, and now include beings from many races. Humans are only one piece in the pattern of witnesses. Among us, among all of you, there are creatures, great and small that serve Her, that serve the weave. We watch and listen, hear and scent, feel and perceive the pattern that surrounds us. And, the Great Lady Torma writes…